


Love Overseas

by auroracalisto



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Reader and France have a child in the last chapter, Reader is momentarily in an abusive relationship, Reader-Insert, Soulmate AU, Titanic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroracalisto/pseuds/auroracalisto
Summary: Countries had soulmates.  The Universe wasn't that cruel.  But yet, if a country never married their soulmate before they died, they would be reborn.  And reborn.  And reborn.So when Francis finds himself staring at the reader after years of trying to find her again, he knows that he can't let her go.  But what happens when he finds her again, on the Titanic?  And with a fiancé who could care less about her?
Relationships: France/Reader, Francis Bonnefoy/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

  
The Titanic. 

It was unsinkable—or so your mother told you as she talked your ear off, waiting to have your tickets taken by a ship employee. 

But you hardly paid notice to the things that she told you. Your eyes took in everything you saw. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but a feeling of dread crawled deep into your heart. You couldn’t figure out why—perhaps it was an underlying fear of the ocean. Never knowing what was out there, always given the possibility that you could die at sea and no one would even know. You tried to push that feeling away, following close behind your mother and handing a man your first-class ticket. 

Close behind you stood your fiancé, Nathaniel; he was a wicked man, but your mother loved him, and he was generous enough to pay for both of your tickets to America. You flinched away from his touch, clearly embarrassing him in front of the steward. Nathaniel grabbed onto your arm and gave a forced smile to the steward before he walked past, pulling you along with him. This was going to be a long trip. 

“Nathaniel,” your soft voice rang out. “Please let go of me. I’ll listen.”

Nathaniel paid no mind, pulling you to the deck of the ship so he could look out before the Titanic left the docks. 

You sighed and let your arm go limp in his grasp—you had no choice, at this point. It was either follow along and be obedient or get in trouble. You had no idea where your mother had run off to. She was no longer in your sight and that same pit of dread resurfaced. You supposed it was always there. A part of you wondered if your fiancé was the one who caused it. 

Nathaniel pulled you to the edge, right beside of some man who didn’t worry about much—he was dressed in the finest clothing that London had to offer. Or was it Paris? The more you looked at his clothing, the more you began to recognize the patterns that were so often used when your father took you shopping shortly before he passed. It was from Paris. The man had beautiful golden hair; almost too beautiful. You were a bit envious and found yourself not even listening to your fiancé until his grip on your arm was too tight to bear. 

You turned your attention onto him, and he continued to squeeze your clothed arm, enough to leave a bruise. 

“What were you saying, darling?” you asked, aware that your voice was loud enough for those around you to hear. Surely, Nathaniel would be smart with his word choice. 

“Nothing, it’s of little importance,” he sneered, glaring at you. “Next time, pay attention.”

Nathaniel let go of your arm, looking out towards the people standing and waving at their loved ones. You moved slightly away from him, finding yourself closer to the blonde man than you were before. 

He said nothing to you, but he gave you a soft smile and nodded his head towards you. Beside him stood a bushy eyebrowed man, who was talking to this man about how excited a person called “Alfred” would be as soon as they got to America. 

Happily, you returned the man’s smile; Nathaniel took notice and it didn’t take long for him to grab your arm and pull you back into the ship. 

The blond man deeply frowned. 

“Francis? What?” the bushy eyed man watched him in confusion, following his gaze. “Oh.” He sighed, leaning against the edge of the ship. He looked out at the people on the docks, knowing he would be back. He was, after all, England. “You know, you will probably run into her sometime soon. She looked to be first class,” he glanced at his friend who only shrugged. 

“What does it matter, _mon ami_? She might look like her, but this time, she has an _amoureux_ ,” he sighed. He let out a bitter laugh. “Cruel of the universe, _non_? To show her to me once more, but _avec une bite_?” 

“Even more of a reason to keep an eye out, mate,” Arthur sighed and turned to face Francis. “Even more so.”

Arthur knew the pain Francis was in. Each country had their soulmate. The Universe was cruel, yes, but it gave them that. Sometimes, their soulmate was a country as well. Sometimes, like Francis, their soulmate was a human. But if you didn’t find your soulmate, or you did not ever marry, due to the cruel fate that was human mortality, they would be reborn anew. And then, you would have to wait—Francis has waited for so long. Arthur remembered when he was a child, how often Francis would be with this beautiful girl—and then one day, she was gone. Francis had told him that the plague had gotten her. But he knew that she was the one. Francis never realized how true that was until just a couple years after she had died, he saw her again. And then again. There were so many times Francis had just gotten to her before she died. And now, he found her again—or rather, the Universe presented her to him again. Fate was cruel, yes, indeed, but Arthur had found his soulmate. She was in America, along with Alfred. He would be returning to see her, his wife, after needing to come back to England just for a short time. Arthur only hoped that Francis would realize [Your name] was worth the chase. 

* * *

Nathaniel had forced you to the dining hall once dinner was to be served. You weren’t allowed any other meal, so you were glad about it. He hated your chubby figure and deemed that you weren’t worthy of any other food—so you took the chance to eat as much as you could when you were allowed. 

Your mother was off, doing who knows what. 

Nathaniel had wanted you to meet some business associates of his. He would most definitely make a few comments about your body in front of them. You felt it coming, sooner or later. But what you didn’t count on was the two blond men you had stood beside of earlier. Them, and a couple of other gentlemen who looked much better than Nathaniel had ever looked in his life. Well-to-do, handsome, you name it. 

Nathaniel greeted each of the men and introduced you to them, a smirk on his lips that never wavered. 

You gave a hesitant smile to each of them, your eyes lingering on who you soon came to know by the name of Francis. Shortly after, Nathaniel forced you into a seat that was beside of Francis and another man who you assumed was Francis’ friend. Nathaniel sat across from you so he could talk to the men he truly wanted to do business with. 

So, there you were, not knowing anyone on a ship in the middle of the ocean, about to eat your first meal of the day. 

Francis caught your eye. 

You glanced up from your plate of food, noting that Nathaniel hadn’t ordered you much. 

“You must be [Your name],” he smiled, a French accent ringing in your ears. 

You smiled a bit. You were right. Paris. “I, uh, I am,” you softly spoke. 

Francis blushed. Your voice was still as sweet as the first time he met you. He had to get you to remember him—each time he met you in the past, you always ended up remembering him. A kiss—a kiss always helped. Many of his friends always said that a kiss would return all of the memories to a lost love. But he didn’t know how to do that, especially since you were with this Nathaniel guy who he frankly did not care for. 

“ _Je m’appelle_ Francis,” he grinned at the woman. She had known French in the past. He wondered if she knew it now. 

You giggled softly and smiled. “ _C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer_ ,” you replied, seeing how Francis’ eyes lit up. Something was . . . so familiar about this man. 

Francis grinned and looked towards Nathaniel, seeing how he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Will you come with me?” he suddenly blurted. 

You looked at him in confusion. “What?”

Francis grinned. “I will pay him off. Come with me. _Je veux vous montrer quelque chose_.” 

You stared at him for another minute, sending a nervous look towards Nathaniel, but you nodded. Not even thinking about it, you grabbed onto his hand, feeling his anxiety. You smiled. “Show me.”

Francis smiled a bit and nodded, making sure everyone was in conversation before he stood and held onto your hand. The two of you quickly left before anyone noticed you were gone. Francis looked back at you, grinning. He took you out onto the dock and you were greeted with chilly air and a million stars in the sky. 

He remembered how you always loved stars. 

“I love stars,” you spoke, smiling towards the man. 

He chuckled softly and nodded. “They are _magnifique, no_?” he smiled. 

“They are,” you nodded. “Nathaniel will get angry with me, Francis. Maybe we should go back in case he’s realized—”

Francis hadn’t let you continue. He had pressed a kiss to your lips before you finished your sentence. It had taken you aback and you quickly pulled away from him, a look of astonishment written on your face. 

“What was that—”

You felt your heart drop as you stared at the man in front of you. It was Francis. Your Francis. You pressed a hand to your lips, your eyes wide as it took you a moment. Your memories, all of them, resurfaced. Every painful death, every last goodbye. Every single one of them. 

Tears sprung to your eyes and you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around him. “Francis,” you breathed out, burying your face in his chest. “Oh, God, Francis—how—how,” you took a moment to look up at him. “How are you here? How are we both here? On a ship? I mean—what are the odds?” you quickly spoke, a smile growing on your lips. 

Francis let out a sigh of relief. You remembered. He gingerly cupped your cheeks and smiled at you. 

“I must apologize for kissing you when you are a taken woman—”

“Francis, really?” you blushed, leaning against his hands. “It took you long enough to find me,” you whispered, smiling. “Last time . . . last time, I was what? I can’t even remember how old I was.”

“You were seventy-two,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-two,” you grinned. 

“Twenty-two,” he repeated, pulling you into a tight hug. “Well,” he held onto her. “I promise you, [Your name]. This time. This time, we will marry before it’s too late.”

You giggled softly, remembering the stories he told you about how if you were to marry, you would become immortal like he was. You wished it were true. You were tired of coming back without your memories only to be kissed into remembering them. 

* * *

_amoureux_ —lover

_avec une bite_ —with a dick

_Je m’appelle_ —my name is

_C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer_ —it is a pleasure to meet you

_Je veux vous montrer quelque chose_ —I want to show you something


	2. Chapter 2

To say having your memories back wasn’t the best thing to happen in this life would be a lie. You were happier than you had been for your entire twenty-two years. Well, these twenty-two years, anyway. You had left Nathaniel as soon as you realized that Francis was the one you loved and were meant to be with. Nathaniel threw a pissy fit. You still had no idea where your mother was, but it didn’t bother you. She wasn’t a kind woman. But Francis—Francis was kind. He was all you needed. 

The past few days had gone by like a breeze. Everything was glorious. Everything was happy. Francis had made love to you on several occasions, and you fell more and more in love with him each passing hour. You knew that’s what you were supposed to do, anyway. But Francis made it so much easier to love. 

But there was something off about tonight. The air had a bite to it that seemed to scream danger. 

You had practically begged Francis to walk on the deck with you. You just needed to calm yourself down and Francis had come with you, not once letting go of your hand. But the danger the air warned you about soon came into sight when there was a loud scraping sound coming from the front of the ship. You were nearly thrown off your feet, but Francis had caught you before you could fall. You felt how tense he was, and you quickly looked up at him. “What?” you asked, looking around to only see the huge iceberg and ice chunks that had fallen onto the deck. Your breathing became uneasy and you cast your gaze onto some of the stewards and crew who came forward to check things out. 

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” Francis let out, pulling you closer to his chest. “Stay with me, hm? We should . . . we should find Arthur. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You gave a small nod and held onto his hand, following close behind the man as he led you down to the first-class floor, quickly rushing to find Arthur dazed and confused in the bedroom. He had just woken up from a short sleep and he looked over at the two of you, frowning. 

“What the bloody hell happened?”

“There was an iceberg,” you blurted. 

“What?!” Arthur looked at the two of you in disbelief, his lips parted out of shock. He looked towards Francis, knowing what Francis was truly scared of. The two of them would be fine. But would you be?

* * *

Francis tried, again and again, to get you to a lifeboat. Every single time, you said no, and tried to stay with him. He eventually realized that your stubbornness wouldn’t help anything, and he grabbed onto your arms, staring you down. 

“You will die if you do not get into a lifeboat. Arthur and I will be fine. You do not need to worry about us. _Mon Dieu, ma vie_ , you are going to be fine.” He kissed your forehead and you only frowned. 

“No. I will not leave you. I am staying with you.”

Francis stared you down, not realizing that while the two of you argued, the last of the lifeboats had been lowered into the water. 

Arthur came over and hit Francis’ arm. “It’s too late. We need to get to higher ground,” he quickly said, looking towards the water. 

You felt your heart drop as Francis pulled you close for a moment. 

“ _Merde_ ,” he closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. He took ahold of your hand and looked towards Arthur. “If we get split up, we will meet at Alfred’s. _Oui_?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, looking towards you. He was wearing a life vest and had one extra in his hands. He frowned and handed it over to you. “We can find another one, Fran—”

“ _Non_. I will be fine. [Your name], get it on. Now.”

You did as you were told, and shortly after, Francis was dragging you and Arthur both up towards the railing. You would be safest there, Francis told you, until the ship sunk. You would have to swim away whenever the ship was completely under. Francis was anxious, his entire body shook. He couldn’t lose you. Not again. But right now? The Universe seemed to be screaming “fuck you” to everyone on this unsinkable ship. 

* * *

To say you weren’t freezing was an understatement. You couldn’t feel any part of your body. Francis tried to keep you as warm as possible, but he too was cold. Everyone around you was. 

Your breathing was shaky and every time you moved, it seemed to just get harder and harder to do so. The water felt like needles stabbing your every move. It hurt to blink, at times. 

“Francis,” you spoke up, close to crying. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen—I—”

He stopped you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You will be okay. You will be okay,” he repeated, just hoping to himself that you really would be, and he was nervous for no reason. 

The only time that night that he felt hope was when a rescue boat had paddled its way over. You were still breathing, but barely. You had tried to keep yourself awake and when you saw it, you had hit his chest as hard as you could. But at that moment, both of you knew, that you would be okay. You were going to be okay. 

* * *

_Mon Dieu_ —my God

 _Ma vie_ —my life

 _Merde_ —shit/fuck


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's to fluff :)  
> Also, please let me know what you think if you happen to read this. Should I make this a series? Like, it doesn't have to be with France, it can be with any of the Hetalia characters. But like. The idea of the countries soulmates and all that jazz. I could have different scenarios like England's soulmate being a peasant from some village he presided over for some time. Or, with America, and he met his soulmate one time during the 1700s and didn't see them again until he went to like a baseball game in the 2000s or something like that? I would be interested, if anyone else is.

“And then what happened, mama?”

A smile broke out on your lips as you looked down at your sweet little angel, Madeline. 

“Well, your papa and I were saved. We were taken onto this ship called the Carpathia and taken to New York. That’s where I got help in a hospital and then your papa took me to meet the rest of his family. Your uncles Arthur, Alfred, and—” you were cut off by your little girl. 

“Mattie!” she squealed, a smile on her lips. 

“Yes, yes,” you laughed, pulling her close into a tight hug. “Your papa and I got married soon after. My love, it had been such a long trip for your father. But now, he and I are finally together and now we have you,” you pressed a soft kiss to your daughter’s nose. 

Shortly after you married, you found yourself pregnant. Madeline was born in 1913, and Francis had said that he believes she represents a little island off of the coast of France. It would be some time before anyone could tell, but she was your entire heart. The disaster that happened soon before you married ruined your mind for some time—but, without it, you might not have had your little five-year-old running around and bothering you when you wanted some alone time. 

Francis stood in the doorway of your living room, his soft eyes watching his little family. For so long, he had your memories and the guilt of every time he watched you die. But now . . . now, he would never have to deal with that. You would be his, forever. That’s all he had ever wanted. 

Madeline smiled when she saw her papa and she quickly stood, rushing over to him to hug him. “ _Je t’aime_ , papa!” she squealed, laughing when Francis picked her up.   
“ _Je t’aime aussi, ma petite papillon_ ,” he grinned, kissing her forehead lovingly. He looked over at you, his smile never wavering. “And I love you, too, my beautiful wife.”

You returned his smile and welcomed him to sit beside you. Your heart was full. At this moment, that’s all that mattered. 

* * *

_Je t’aime_ —I love you

 _. . . aussi_ —I love you, too

 _Ma petite papillon_ —my little butterfly


End file.
